Poor Pika.

Where was that feathered fiend? Was he still sulking in a tree or had he vanished into the centre of the island to drown his sorrows on hibiscus like Sully had suggested?

When no one appeared after ten minutes, I sucked in a breath.

It’s now or never.

Last chance.

My heart skipped a beat as the tiniest fragment of hesitation filled me.

My ending on this island had come and I didn’t know why that made me pause. Why a small piece of me would forever remember Sully and his paradisiac utopia.

Go!

Stop thinking about him.

Stop being an idiot!

Gritting my teeth, I scurried from my bush, flung my bag into the closest kayak, then threw my weight against the jade green fibreglass, shoving the sleek craft toward the tide.

It hissed over the sand, slipping on its side, making the oar clank against its innards.

I froze.

I looked back at the treeline.

No one appeared.

I pushed again, coaxing it to ease closer and closer to the shore.

Come on. Come on!

With my heart in my mouth, I kept pushing until the back of it went weightless, twisting to sit upright and buoyant as the sea claimed it.

With warm water lapping at my ankles, I held up my skirt and looked back one final time.

The treeline remained empty.

The island seemed poised and pregnant with promise. Trees and foliage watched me leave. Tropical beauty said goodbye.

Go!

With a shaky breath, I clambered into the kayak and collected the oar.

I’d only ever manned a watercraft once before. It’d been five years ago during the summer holidays. We’d gone to a lake, and my friend’s brother had a kayak that he took us around in. He’d promised he’d keep me safe, but in the centre of the huge lake, he’d dived in and swam home, leaving me to row back on my own.

I’d hated it.

I’d had no arm strength and blisters covered my palms by the time I docked, shaky and angry, vowing never to use such a torture device again.

How ironic that this was now my favourite thing.

The tiny unassuming boat that would sail me to my freedom.

With one last look, I imprinted Sully’s home to my memory, drank in the sights of majestic palms and stunning moonlit sand, and rowed.

I turned and rowed, rowed, rowed.

I rowed until I couldn’t see his island anymore.

Chapter Eleven

I LANDED IN LAX.

I turned on my phone.

One voice message.

My heart picked up sticks and began to drum.

I waited for the line to connect.

I motherfucking almost got arrested in the arrival hall.

My phone hurled through the air as I launched it with rage, the message repeating itself as it flew.

“Mr. Sinclair, sir. Ehh…a goddess is missing. A kayak is unaccounted for. We have launched a search party. We’ll advise when we find her.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuuuccckkk!

Chapter Twelve

TWO THINGS HAPPENED WITHIN an hour of leaving.

One, my hands burned with pain, ensuring I would no longer have smooth palms by the end of my flee.

Two, a tiny parrot appeared from the darkness, flying straight to me, perching on my bag strap as if I’d summoned it through psychic will.

I rested my oar on my lap, eyeing the small bird, recognising the sprigs of black feathers and tangerine cheeks.

The parrot that’d watched me the past couple of days. The parrot that looked a lot like Pika but had none of his flamboyant, comical personality.

What was a bird doing up at night?

Surely, it should be roosting somewhere the moment the sun went down. Why had a flighted creature flown over acres of sea in the dark? Even seagulls were smarter than that, and they could rest on water.

“Are you lost, little one?” I asked softly, the sound of my voice strange in the water world where I bobbed. The only noise had come from the splashes of my oar and the gentle slap of sea against the bow.

The parrot blinked, splaying out a wing and preening the sleek under feathers. It fluffed up its body, seeming grateful to have found a perch.

What a strange little thing.

What an annoying little passenger.

I looked over my shoulder to the disappearing distance where Sully’s shores hid. I couldn’t go back and drop it off, who knew if I’d ever have another chance. I looked forward at the vast openness before me, at the faint lights of other islands, calling me, summoning me.

I wanted to obey and keep going, but I couldn’t row with a bird as my stowaway. I couldn’t take it so far from home. How terrible would that be to displace it? What if it was Pika’s mate or another one of Sully’s pets?

So? He displaced you. He stole you. Why do you care about a bird?

My shoulders slouched.

I cared because I’d always had a bleeding heart when it came to animals. And perhaps because of what’d happened to me and the captivity I’d just run from, I was hyperaware of what it would mean to this little parrot if I continued with it.

You can’t stay bobbing out here.

They’ll start searching soon.

I was stuck.

Dammit.

“What am I supposed to do with you, huh?” I took off my hat, not needing it with only starlight painting me in a muted silver glow.

The parrot cocked its head, blinking with curiosity. I stared back, wasting ten minutes trying to decide what to do when I should’ve been rowing. “Go home. Fly away.” I tried wafting it with my hat, encouraging it to leave.

It only spread its wings, hovered out of distance until I stopped antagonising it, then swooped back and wrapped its tiny talons around my bag strap again.

“Ugh.” I clutched my oar, worry skittering down my spine that I had to keep going. I had the favour of darkness for now, but I had to put as many miles between me and Sully’s island before the sun woke up.

My heart broke but common-sense tried to make me rational. The bird had wings. It’d flown here of its own free will. It could leave again—it wouldn’t be stuck if I continued. It had the means to return.

Gritting my teeth, I dug the oar into the waves and continued onward. “I’m sorry, but I have to keep going. Have a rest and then fly back to where you came from, okay?”

The bird chirped quietly, stuck its head under its wing, and went to sleep.

* * * * *

Dawn crested far too soon.

The first island still seemed ages ahead, leaving me vulnerable on the open ocean. As the sky slowly lightened, I dug my oar deeper, wrenching out more power from over depleted muscles.

I had no choice but to keep going. Keep rowing. Keep trying.

My back crawled with fear that I was being followed, but I refused to look behind me; refused to entertain the possibility that I wouldn’t make it.

Sweat rivered under my clothes by the time I entered a rip around the rocky, palm tree crowded land. The sea carried me swiftly toward the splashing, crashing shore. I did my best to navigate around the island without puncturing a hole in the kayak or capsizing, only stopping when I found a tiny inlet with sand and an overhanging of banyan trees.

The parrot took off, flying into the many palms as I jumped out into knee-deep water and hauled the jade green kayak to shore. Doing my best to camouflage it, I tucked it under some trees.